The Wandering Tutor
by Ciathus
Summary: One of the first European witches to travel to the New World finds her niche as a tutor among the Puritan colonists. But when two of her students go missing she drops everything to find them.
1. The Ham Homestead

The colonies were infantile; barbed lines of entrepreneurship cast by the maritime lords of commerce, using those naive fanatics of God as their willing bait. The Puritan colonies in Massachusetts were the deepest sunk into the bays and coasts of the New World, or more precipitously, the most established. Mary Ellsworth, otherwise known as Mistress Mary to her students, was a traveling tutor in this New England; this Second Chance. The schoolhouses were erected within city limits, leaving the far-reaching homesteaders to fend for themselves when it came to their children's education. There were twenty-two Puritan homesteads she shuttled among, going from house to house teaching the Puritan children reading, writing, and arithmetic. She was commonly not paid for her efforts, except in the form of shelter and food. Her stay beneath each roof depended upon the capability of the settlers; some being able to keep her employment longer than others. Typically, Mary remained no longer than a week at any residence before moving on to the next. During the harvest season she might instruct her pupils for only one or two days as the children were needed to help bring in the yield of springtime's sow.

For the last two days she was tutoring at the Ham household. Josiah Ham was the father of the household and he beseeched Mary to stick to teaching the 'three R's' as they were so called. "Here me, Mary, I know your intelligence is not to be questioned and have been educated abroad, but yonder children so ferried from high society to this unbridled wilderness, don't need anything other than the primary subjects. Young Caleb is going to assume these lands when I am taken up by Providence, and he shan't need to learn to draw to do so."

"I appreciate your perspective, Josiah," Mary replied with a knowing resignation, having had this conversation many times with other parents. "Yet the practice of drawing is fundamental in understanding one's surroundings. Caleb and I might merely be drawing the trees and animals we ascertain in the forest now, but suppose one day Caleb acquires thy worthy farm and wishes to procure more land. A Plymouth purveyor is going to call anon and draw up the property lines upon three pieces of paper: one for the city, one for the landholder, and one for the buyer. Now how will Caleb know whether or not he is being misled or cheated into buying less land than he pay for if he knows not the first thing about drawings and sketches, or how to draft or interpret maps?"

The humble Puritans did not like to talk about the future as a rule, and Mary bringing it up made Josiah uncomfortable. He shifted his weight and brushed his beard with his palm. "Well, I just don't reckon…"

"The way I see it," Mary gently cut across him, "you, as Caleb's parent have every right to determine what he can and cannot study. But _as_ his parent you should want him to be as duly prepared as possible to run this farm. Don't obstruct his future by hindering him now."

Josiah looked around as if to find another excuse. "I… I don't have any paper or ink."

"That's quite alright, Josiah, I always keep some with me."

"Ok then, go on," he smiled broadly in spite of himself. Josiah was not so easily beguiled by merchants or peddlers in the town square, a quality he was proud of, but that this impetuous woman could sway him so easily made him start questioning his weakness of mind. 'Or most assuredly it may not be his mind that was weak, but the lady that was strong,' Josiah thought. "Thou art a curious young lady, Mary. I pray the other homesteaders are as forgiving of thy impertinence as I."

"I should be so blessed."

Mary Ellsworth was indeed a curious young lady; he was not mistaken, for she was in fact a witch. She had trained in the south of England at a community-organized school specifically fashioned for witchcraft and wizardry. She could not afford the more prestigious school in Scotland, as was the case with many a young student. She was only four years a graduate, and had never dreamed of venturing to the New World for any reason. She had entered into a relationship with a wizard, however, and when the relationship became abusive she fled to the Americas to be free from his influence.

She was two years a colonial, but due to what she was and what community she associated with, her life was under constant threat. A problem she had not considered before she became a passenger upon the _Maritas_ and sailed for Massachusetts Bay. At first she felt too fearful to stay among the Puritans, due to their strict, unrelenting adherence to law; a law made more perilous for it was infused by the unwavering righteousness of Holy Writ; but she found it very difficult to sustain herself without either consistent food or comfortable finances. As she grew more comfortable blending in, donning the muted colors of servile pilgrims, she struck upon her niche in the tutoring business, finding the children of the frontier Puritans lacking in overall education.

Her life was one of loneliness. Passing from house to house like a gift, being re-gifted over and over. She longed for a familiar friend; one she might only nod in understanding as if to say, 'I am invested in you and you in me.' Her pupils became her closest confidants, and were more like family than not.

Her true abilities she had to keep to herself or undertake only at night or in the wild forest. She had been discovered once already and regretted _obliviating_ the entire household to save herself. Unfortunately, the staunch and rigorous beliefs of the Puritans determined all magic to be from the devil. To the astute, though perhaps dense Puritans a witch was defined as an ungodly, hexing harlot who laid with the Devil or flew over their settlements at night shrieking their curses of doom over there righteous rooftops. This left Mary with no room for error or carelessness.

Yet there were some advantages she could utilize under little or no threat. Her ink bottle for instance was a bewitched one in which the ink never ran out, and the paper she used she would wipe clean with her wand between each homestead to make it new for the next set of children to draw upon. Her life as a wanderer was therefore eased in functionality, if not by companionship.

Mary didn't know of any magical practitioners in the New World. She spent only a little time among the indigenous population when she was at first so repulsed by the Puritan way of life. She hardly presumed she was the only one, but she had failed to come into contact with any other. Yet she was not idle in her speculative queries, for she kept a weathered eye out for children gifted with magic in the homes she taught in. This quest to find others like herself was made the more difficult by the fact that even if a child exemplified characteristics of a witch or wizard, the child's family would at once turn the child over to be injured or executed by the community leaders and magistrates. Even if she was fortunate enough to find a child with magical attunement, she knew not what she might do about it. She may try to teach the child in secret or at night. Ultimately, the hope of finding someone like herself was only a hope to finding someone with whom to be close.


	2. The Wilkins Homestead

Josiah Ham and Caleb Ham gave Mistress Mary provisions to take with her and they filled her drinking skin with maple wine. "What do you say to Mistress Mary?"

"Thank you, Mistress Mary," blurted out Caleb, who was both sad to see her go and thrilled to be in her presence still.

"You're very welcome Caleb, and don't forget to practice your reading." She smiled and hefted her bag of learning books onto her shoulder, hunching somewhat under the weight. She turned and walked away, "I'll see you next time," she said over her shoulder. The children she tutored loved her, for she was not a disciplinarian. She wanted the children to know right from wrong, not fear right from wrong. Despite her best efforts, the progress she made in the children was sometimes lost the next time she saw them, depending on how long it was between visits. She turned once more and saw Caleb waving after her still, even though Josiah had gone into the barn to start his chores for the morning. She returned his wave, but frowned, hoping his learning lasted till she returned.

She waited until she was out of eyesight and earshot, and then opening her bag of books she produced her wand from the long sleeve of her travelling cloak, she pointed it into the bag and whispered, " _reducio!_ " And instantly the bag became as light as a feather, and she could stand up straight.

Massachusetts was wet this time of year and the leaves of yester autumn gathered in windblown tufts around the feet of the trees and in the briars. Already the chill of winter blew through the forest, heralding its coming oppression. The shedding branches of the trees sighed and swayed in the forest, and the sudden crack and crash of a branch was not uncommon.

Mary often busied her mind by identifying smells she sensed while walking through the forest. She would often smell cranberry bushes and would not proceed until she located the wild bush and the sweet fragrance of its berries and the wet aroma of its dewy leaves. She would fill her pockets with these sour berries, and would suck on them and spit their pits about her as she walked. She hoped the seeds she spat would one day turn into bushes, providing her with enough fodder to busy her self, traveling between tutelages.

Quite often she would cross paths with members of the different Wampanoag tribes. These indigenous persons were friendly to her, for she had spent time in their coves, watching the blue smoke billow from the _wetus_ dwellings. She would sometimes help watch over their children during ceremonies or meetings. Among them she was able to use mild magic, for they did not see it as such an evil thing. But she limited it to healing and potions. She found little in the way of spell casting among the few families she associated with, but they displayed an intimate knowledge of the non-human creatures living in New England, and were able to enhance or purify potions she already knew.

The Wampanoag hunters were excellent trackers and trappers. When she first met them they would sneak up on her and berate her for being a blind and deaf colonial. Their games ended when she learned to track them instead. Surprising them in turn. She taught those who would listen plain English, and was responsible for several trades and understandings between the natives and the colonials, though not on a large scale.

She knew around this time of year the Wampanoag moved further inland to winter in their _nush wetu_ , or long houses. She didn't expect to see any between the Ham homestead and the Wilkins' Homestead. She smiled broadly to herself just thinking about the Wilkins. All of them fair skinned with fiery red hair. They came to the Americas from the Welsh downs and were Anglican by affiliation, and were not tolerated among the majority Puritans. The younger daughter, Maggie, taught Mary a limerick while they helped prepare a meal together:

 _Gather the roses, thorns and thorns_

 _Keep to sedate and steep_

 _Gather the spiderwort, three purple peddles_

 _Relieving araneae stings_

 _Gather bloodroot, bleeding, bleeding_

 _To paint but not to eat_

 _Gather the adder's tongues, yellow and slender_

 _Leaves remedy hiccups_

 _Gather the nettles, sting and stick_

 _Good for hair and nursies_

 _Follow these instructions young, young child_

 _And ne'er ye be lost in forest wild._

Little Maggie was a dear, sweet child. Her red locks frustrated her so, for they would fall into her eyes as she studied. Looking about her to make sure no one was watching, Mary had enchanted a silver hairpin to stay fastened until the wearer removed it, and gave it to ease Maggie's irritation. As she approached the Wilkins homestead she whistled a high, chittering note like a bird, to call the children to her. She pulled the pages Caleb Ham had drawn upon and wiped them clean with her wand.

She emerged from the forest into the long, grass at the back of their property and beheld the Wilkins homestead. The log cabin was settled between three alder trees midway up an incline toward the east. "My dear Wilkins," she called out over the property. She approached the house from the rear and was disappointed the children did not run to great her as usual. They loved her bird imitating.

As she made around the corner of the front of the house she dropped her bag and suppressed a shudder. She clutched the house to steady her knees and had to seize her chest to stop her heart from escaping her bosom. James Wilkins, the father, and Gareth Wilkins, the son, were tied with their backs to a tree, stripped of all their clothes and ridden of their scalps. She turned her head, vying to rid the image of their purple and brown intestines hanging to their feet from her sight. And her hands covered her ears to block out the cacophony of flies making homes in her friends' stomachs.

Her trembling hands retrieved her wand from her sleeve, the tip of which refused to be steady. The door to the house was ajar, and she passed uneasily through it. She walked to the soot-covered fireplace and reached down to touch the stones, the hearth was cold. She did not but wish to rid herself of this macabre homestead, but her duty to her friends, her friends so offensively slain, fortified her nerves. She had to observe and detect, not alter or provoke. Just as she taught her students when they studied the streams and nests nearby.

The family bed in the bedroom was shredded and the blue-veined feet of mother Wilkins stuck out from the mess of quilts and the littering of goose feathers. Mary covered her mouth just in time to suppress a sick. Stomach bile and sour cranberry taste burned the back of her throat. The smell inside the room was overwhelming. Yet she pressed on, searching the corners of the house and looking inside and behind chests and cabinets. Where were the two Wilkins girls, Maggie and her older sister Claret?

Search as she might she could not find them, it was nearly sundown before she convinced herself they were not within or without the house, and she had other matters to attend to before it was completely dark. She cut down the Wilkins, man and boy, from the tree and used her wand to lift them one by one into the house. This upset the colonial flies greatly, and she covered her face to protect herself. She organized the two with Mistress Wilkins upon the bed, and she arranged them in a dignified manner together. She covered the men with blankets so at least by a great summoning of imaginations she could picture them whole. She gathered herself and spoke thus, "may your Father find you and keep you safe. _Incendio_!" she cast with her wand fixed upon the three.

She quietly retrieved her bag of learning books from outside the house, and walked a good distance away. Further up the incline, she sat down in defeat and despair. Smoke billowed out the broken bedroom window and the scourging fire crept along the homestead floor and threshold. Her fortitude ran dry, and she sobbed and cried in turns of both anguish and hate well past sunset. The burning tongues of flame illuminated the night sky and the alder trees at hand, and the crackling incineration drowned out the songs of crickets and the calls of toads from the nearby stream.


	3. The Waylaid Travelers

The house continued burning behind her the following morning, as she walked dejectedly away from the Wilkins she so loved. She did not have a wit about her and continued stepping forward only drawn on by some vague inference of obligation. She assured herself the flames would not spread even to the alder trees due to the overall wetness of morning and previous rain falls.

Who was to blame? Where were the girls? Had she, herself not come only a day or two sooner she could have tried to protect them. The manner in which the men were killed was indicative of native warfare, for while the colonials did offer bounties for scalps she did not know them to disembowel their victims. But the natives were not at war; the Wampanoag were already moving inland to winter and would not wreak such vile destruction on anyone. Yet it bore marks of indigenous ferocity. Something was not right.

She turned around and looked over the Wilkins property and the burning home whose roof was now caving in, sending sparks dancing into the morning air. She had only made it to the top of the incline, and so could see the whole premises. She directed her wand at the house and spoke firmly, " _accio_ , _villainy_!" Nothing came. " _Accio_ , _weaponry_!" Nothing, the wind blew teasingly the stains of tears upon her cheeks. She frothed with boiling frustration; she threw herself behind her wand, and gripping it with both hands commanded, " _ACCIO, EVIDENCE OF MY FRIENDS KILLERS_!"

Suddenly, a small slender object flew out from inside the house. It was so small, and it came so fast she could not catch it; she didn't panic but cast a shield charm, " _protego_!" The thing glanced off her momentary shield and fell at her feet. She picked it up and saw that it was a small arrow, only fourteen or fifteen inches long. It was charred black from the flames of the house. She did not know a tribe that used such small arrows, but she was determined to discover it. She would not leave a stone unturned in her endeavor to discover the girls, she only prayed she would not merely discover their bodies lying unattended in the forest.

She began to sense purpose again as her wits returned to her; she needed to uncover the whereabouts of the Wilkins girls. She did not visit the winter sites of the Wampanoag often for they were inland and quite a distance from the colonial homesteads she tramped between. So she didn't like the idea of apparating to them, due to her uncertainty of their specific locations. But she knew they were always near water sources or springs. So she found the stream on the Wilkins property and followed it west and away from the colonists of eastern Massachusetts.

Mary made her way, trudging through the long grass and picking her way through the briars beside the stream. The hem of her dress snagged upon wild rose bushes and she could hear little Maggie reciting, " _Gather the roses, thorns and thorns, keep to sedate and steep_." Claret, the older sister, was a sweet girl, blessed with a gentle disposition. Mary feared to think what her captors might attempt against her. Claret helped Mary at every opportunity; gathering books or helping hold Maggie's hand across the ditches of milkweed by their homestead.

Mary swore; if the Wampanoag had anything to do with this, she would not hesitate to make them pay, indeed, suffer for their works. Yet whenever a wave of retribution washed over her she failed to pinpoint a target for her calamities. She could not convince herself the local tribe would act so aggressively, so unbeknownst, and the arrow, the short arrow, what felon persons used these instruments?

The sun reigned high over the forests' canopy when Mary picked up the trail of Wampanoag travelers. Even the leather shoes of the natives couldn't completely erase their footprints in the wet leaves and rain shifted mud washouts. She tracked them for some time discerning at least five children, two sets similar in size to what Maggie and Claret's footprints would be; and besides six adults at least. Her efforts and diligence brought her deep into the forest passing wild glades of white flowered, wild carrots.

The terrain had up till now matched the various inclines like that of the Wilkins hill. Now the paths became rockier and the stream she followed, cut through great mounds and hills of old, green stone.

And then she heard the _car-rack_ of gunfire echo in the forest; again and again. It was a volley! They had to be no less than a mile away. Mary brandished her wand, seized a handful of her dress, and broke out in a mad sprint towards the still echoing discharges. The humid air inside the forest hung heavy in her lungs and she labored to power it without and within. There! She saw them, the family she had been tracking, strewn across a glade ahead.

She ran among their bodies, wand raised and ready to defend them. Then suddenly she heard shouting and running. Wampanoag men were rushing towards the glade, some gripping flintlocks and others wielding tomahawks. Were these the assailants, these Wampanoag? The younger men reached her first and trained their guns upon her. They berated her with questioning in their Massachusett tongue; she could decipher little of it at shut speed and from multiple speakers. All she could say was, "wait. Wait!" And hold her hands up in a token of innocence.

Some of older men reached them now, and demanded they lower their aim from her. As soon as they did so she flew to the nearest person, prostate upon the ground and motionless this whole time. They were covered in blood, she looked at the wounds, and they were riddled with holes: their faces, necks, upper and lower bodies. But there were no – "bullet holes," exclaimed a familiar face. It was Wamsutta, one of the sachems Mary knew well, whom she had helped perfect his already considerable understanding of English, along with his wife. They exchanged a glance in which Mary conveyed her gratitude. "There are no bullet holes, Mary."

"I don't understand."

The air was rent by a teenage boy. He hunched over the body of a young man, shouting hoarsely into his loved one's lifeless face. He tore his clothes in agony and Mary ached with him, seeing the boy so effected. Others rushed to comfort him. But the shout disturbed the nearby forest, something moved away like a crawling animal through the brush. Mary followed everyone's gaze and acted without seeing her target, she lunged to her knees and whipped her wand, " _STUPIFY_!" The brush rippled from the blast of the hex. There was a wretched squeal cut short and they heard a thud upon the ground.

Mary and Wamsutta raced to discover what they had caught. She understood the circumstance allowed the others to overlook her brash spell casting she had more-or-less tried to keep to herself. They plunged into the overgrowth and found a creature so ugly and inhuman, she could hardly believe it. Wamsutta gave Mary a look of grim astonishment. "We've never caught one before."

"A what… what is this?"

"Pukwudgie or Puks," and he spat upon it, with utmost distaste. "They're the cause of many a capable hunter's disappearance." The immobilized, humanoid creature was not more than two and a half feet tall. Its face was small and set with shriveled features denoting unkindliness. The mangled, wiry mane sprouted out from its head and continued down to its squat legs, dominating its facade. The fleece was multihued, cobwebbed, and stuck all over with burrs. Its mouth was frozen in a grizzly gnashing, and its yellow, bloodshot eyes stared wildly at them under half shut lids. She leaned close to it and noticed quills, like a porcupine, concealed in its mane.

"Look at this," said Wamsutta, pointing to the creatures blackened, cringed fingers. Mary looked closely, and smelled the substance. It was unmistakably gunpowder. "Gunpowder, but no bullet wounds." The two returned to inspect the bodies once more. The other men had moved the bodies and laid them out in a line. Mary could not suppress a whimper as she saw she was correct about the five children. They were Wampanoag. Two of them the same age as Maggie and Claret. Their limp bodies were uncanny, given the reckless manner most children exhibit. It would be near impossible to keep them still or quiet during a ceremony, and yet here they were in the forest, their playing grounds, as still as stone. Mary covered her mouth with her hand, and rung her eyes. How much were death and the New World so grossly permutable?

She noted after a few moments the others did not share her tears, even the aggrieved boy, and she wiped hers away with embarrassment. In an attempt to save face she said, "Those appear to be inflicted by knives or arrows, do they not?" Wamsutta nodded, they were too messy and irregular to be bullet holes, and there was too much blood. Mary produced the small, burnt arrow she summoned from the Wilkins house. Wamsutta's eyes stared out of his head; he seized the arrow from her and snapped it in half, flinging the remains into the forest. "Those are bad omens. The Puks use them and dip them in their poisonous sap. Where did you find this?"

"The Wilkins homestead has been ravaged, three of them slain, two are missing. The men were scalped, Wamsutta."

The native took offense to the pointedness of Mary's last statement. He stepped towards so he could look her squarely in the face. "We did not abuse your Wilkins."

Mary already drew this conclusion in her mind that the Wampanoag were not responsible, especially considering what she had just bewitched. But it was her duty to press Wamsutta anyway. She knew also, Wamsutta was a man of directness and thoughtfulness. He did not attempt to defend himself to her, because his 'yes' meant 'yes' and his 'no' meant 'no.' To Mary the Wampanoag were thus acquitted.


	4. The Pech

The teenage boy stooped and picked up his tomahawk where he dropped it. He made for the brush where the Puk still lay stunned. Mary made to stop him, but Wamsutta held out his arm to prevent her. "It needs to happen."

"Could we not garner information from the…" she began, but was interrupted by three heavy blows with the axe. The boy returned, his face speckled with the yellow blood of the thing. Mary had misgivings of killing a defenseless creature under one of her spells. She was, however, clearly overruled by the sachem's decision. The boy did not return satisfied, and he did not attempt to wipe his face.

"Wamsutta, these… Pukwudgies, are they always this lethal? Are they at war with your people?" she asked.

"We've never fought them on any significant scale." The older tribesman looked upon his fallen people like a mother whitetail might look upon the carcass of its offspring after the nittany is finished with it. "They are extremely difficult to arrest even when they are near at hand," he continued, looking with near apprehension at her wand, which she realized she still wielded and so replaced it into her sleeve. "But we've found their arrows before. Our medicine cannot expel their poison."

Mary pondered the Wilkins and Wampanoag massacres. Knowing the beasts used arrows to assault their victims, the manner in which the attacks were carried out did not add up. "Have the Puks ever scalped your people before?"

"No," he answered blankly. He soberly began making arrangements for the burial of the slain Wampanoag.

Then it struck Mary. "Wamsutta, Wamsutta, the Puks, they tried to make the Wilkins attack appear as if it were conducted by violent natives, and this assailing of your people they disguised to look like merciless colonial vengeance. Wamsutta, they're trying to start a conflict between your people and the colonials."

Wamsutta listened intently to this. "The Pukwudgie were here long ago," he replied, "even before our ancestors arrived from the far west and cold north. They've never been at peace with us, and now with the Europeans arrival… yes, they don't likely have the means to make war themselves, and so they tried to make us fight one another."

"Leaving them the sole inhabitants, remaining alone in the end. I have to locate their dwelling place. They still have the two Wilkins girls."

"I could summon the other sachems and demand a war council," but his enthusiasm waned before her eyes. "We have searched before. We've never found their dens. And even if we could find them, they're too slippery a vermin to come out and fight us."

"Nevertheless, I am burdened with the girls' deliverance. How can I best discover them?"

Wamsutta shook his head and continued arranging the burial. He really believed she was wasting her time, and she knew it was no use arguing with him about it. She began instead to search the glade for signs of the other Puks, all the other Wampanoag attended the dead or left to get help or begun digging a communal grave with stones. But not the teenage boy who had been so deeply wounded and had mercilessly slaughtered the frozen Puk; he stared intently at Mary and her searching.

She found nothing, she scoured the area around the dead creature and noticed it only left footprints in its attempt to flee. There were no footprints going into the brush were it had hidden. She only found a few spots on the ground where gunpowder had been ignited, and upon the Pukwudgie there was a small bag about its waist that once held the black powder. She found no arrows, no more footprints, and no tufts of fur caught in the briars. There was no foreign smell left lingering in the glade except the fog of gunpowder still hovering in the leaves overhead. Nothing.

By this time the Wampanoag had gathered to some considerable number, over fifty by Mary's rough estimate, and were lowering the bodies of their loved ones into the large grave. Each body had been sewn into an individual mat, and their bodies were placed so that their heads pointed southwest, towards Cautantowwit's house, the god of life. Stones, painted white, were placed in a large circle around the pit. And just beyond the white circle, the tribe's people sat and preformed a pawwaw to appeal to Cheepi, the god of death.

Mary watched all this from a distance, away from the Wampanoag, and stood still and quiet in reverence of the fallen. And all the while the teenage boy did not take his eyes off her, even when his loved one was buried in the ground. The natives lit fires and began dancing in a celebration of the lives of these few. Their chanting and singing rued the night, and the darkness closed in around their fires as if to pay its own respects.

Mary did not attempt anymore search. What could she do? She turned and began walking downhill and towards the east, towards the homesteads she was so familiar with. A sadness hung upon her shoulders and she hung her head in waves of rapt contemplation and bitter sorrow. When she had walked far enough away from the Wampanoag and their ceremonies faded into silence, she heard footsteps following behind her. They were soft and nearly silent. The sky was getting quite dark, and the stars began to gleam. She turned suddenly upon her follower, removing her wand as she spun around, and declared, " _lumos, maxima_."

The night sky retreated as a light from the tip of her wand shone brightly like a small star had fluttered down to alight upon her wand. The stalker shielded his face with his hands, when he lowered his arms she saw the yellow Pukwudgie blood shimmer by the light of her wand. It was the teenage boy. "Why do you pursue me?"

He stood erect and proud, "I am, Samoset. You, Mary, I've seen you before."

Mary nodded, "I've stayed among your _wetus_ several times." She lowered her wand and the light somewhat, and stated gravely, "I'm sorry for your loss today."

"My brother is now in the earth like a seed, ready to come into a new life, I am not sorry."

"What was his name?" she asked, conveying her sympathy.

"I won't say it. I desire not to disturb his rest by uttering it here."

"Why aren't you partaking in the celebration of your brother's life?"

"I'm too consumed by the cause of his death." They stared at one another. The light continued to cast shadows away from them. A grasshopper fluttered from the darkness, flew between them, and escaped into the night once more. Samoset continued, "I want to find those killers too." His face was set as cold and hard as stone. "You are a witch."

Mary was taken aback by this last announcement. Of course it was obvious now, but he knew exactly what to classify her as, despite a lack of knowledge regarding her secretive society. Her first instinct was not to deny it, but to embrace it. "I am indeed, Samoset. I hope it does not offend you greatly."

"It doesn't. You see, my people have searched for the Pukwudgie dens before, Wamsutta was correct; but we have never searched for the Puks with a witch beside us. I think with your help, I can find my brother's killers and perform my own dance of death among them."

"My skills have their limitations. I can't find them all at once."

"I saw you bewitch that repulsive vermin," he spat with venomous hate at even the mention of the creature, "I know how capable you are."

Mary admired his determination, and she too needed to find the Puks in order to ascertain Maggie and Claret's whereabouts. She stepped towards Samoset and held out her hand, "I will aid you if you aid me."

Samoset grabbed her hand inflexibly, and his grip was strong and resolute, despite his youth, yet Mary matched it. "I will aid you if you will aid me."

Then Samoset took off into the night forest with haste, still gripping her hand firmly, leading her through the underbrush he was clearly intimate with even in the night. "Wait," protested Mary. "Where are we going?" She instinctually resisted his pull, despite not fearing his intentions.

"Come, we have no time to lose."

"But where, Samoset, where are we going?"

"There are a curious people who live in the Hills to the south, a couple days run from here. They are very knowledgeable about all the comings and goings in the area. They are just really difficult to find. But with you…"

"TELL ME WHERE WE ARE GOING!"

He stopped and turned to face her, his eyes gleamed in the starlight. His face bore a look of tediousness, as if he didn't want to waste the time to explain it to her. "They last spoke to our people at Askooke Spring, between what you would call the blue hills and the iron-back hills."

Mary grabbed hold of his hand with both of hers, "oh!" she exclaimed, "I know that place." And in an instant their two bodies jerked, twisted, swirled… there was a loud cracking sound… the stars vanished… Then suddenly they both stood upon a dry trail of leaves, next to a bubbling spring fount. Samoset trembled and doubled over, vomiting. "Forgive me," offered Mary.

"What just happened, I thought you had killed me."

"No, no nothing like that, we just didn't have time and I didn't have the stamina to run for two days uphill to Askooke Spring. We are here now, I apparated us."

"This, this is the spring?" asked the teenage boy recovering himself and pointing feebly to the spring.

"Yes. See." She cast _lumos maxima_ once more, and the forest around them alighted and shimmered with every whim of her wand's movements. "Where can we find these people, do they live here at Askooke?"

"I'm not sure. This is just were they met our people last."

"Who are they, did they speak to Wamsutta or one of the other sachems last?"

Samoset looked unsure of himself for the first time. "Legend tells us they are called the Pechion people, and no, Wamsutta wasn't born yet."

"Legends? Wamsutta wasn't born yet? How long ago did your people talk to them?"

"I'm told we talked to them when we first moved into the region. It was the Pechs who gave us the low, forested lands." All at once, Mary beheld the young man as a boy now, brash, headstrong, and attempting to enact his revenge based on tribal legends and myth. She wasn't mad at him for she understood his plight somewhat, but she was disappointed they had nothing of substance to go on. They were no closer to finding the cruel Pukwudgie.

"Samoset I need more to go on, other than your people once spoke to them centuries ago."

Samoset composed himself and stood tall again. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the stories. "My grandmother used to tell me about them when I was a sapling. She said they lived inside rock, and that they were the color of the rock they lived in." Mary glanced around by the light of her wand. All the visible stones in this area were dark brown and wet, with black specks. But the stones she saw could not keep a person inside them.

"What sort of people are they? Are they a different tribe?"

"No, they are not people at all. They are like men but have unfamiliar bodies, part stone and part amphibian. My father called them Stone-Talkers. Whenever we came across a disturbed rock of great size in the hills he would say the Stone-Talkers had been playing there. They can talk to stones, living stones in the earth. And if we can find them then they should be able to ask the stones where are quarry abides."

Mary knew at once these creatures had to be magical in some respect, if they were indeed still alive, and if they really could talk to stones. She severely doubted they could speak English, let alone Massachusett, Samoset's language. "Alright, Samoset, we need to look for stones big enough to house these beings. How big are they? Are they little like the Puks?"

"No, I don't think so. They used to be able to look down into the eyes of my ancestors, so they have to be the size of a man or bigger."

"That narrows it down then. Let's start looking for stones large enough to fit at least a grown man inside. "

They searched long into the night. All around the Askooke Spring there were huge monolith pylons of granite standing out of the top of the hill; all the soil once covering it eroded over millennia. The stone was wet at the base and dry at the top, mossy greys and greens down low, bare and veined with white above the tree line. They climbed these towers seeing if there were hidden trap doors atop. Mary cast _revelio_ and _finite incantantum_ , even _aparecium_ , dozens and dozens of times with no favorable result. She tried unlocking charms, nothing.

Finally, they found themselves back at the spring. The night sky was turning a lighter shade of blue from the direction of the ocean beyond the hills. The stars slowly faded from the glow of the ebbing sunrise. They both sat down. Samoset lay on his back, and Mary leaned on her hands, trying without success to keep her eyes open. The bubbling spring lulled her, soothing her to sleep. What she wouldn't give for an awakening potion. She pulled her traveling bag from her shoulders and rummaged through it with by the light of her wand. She pulled a pinch of breadcrumbs from the bag, set them upon a flat stone, and " _engorgio_." The crumbs turned into chewy, somewhat stale bread, about the size of her hands.

The native and the colonial eat their morsels of bread in silence for some time. Mary's feet were aching from climbing in her black boots; she removed them from her feet and emptied them of small pebbles lodged inside. She kept the boots off, being distracted by the cuts and scratches on the palms of her hands.

"We are no closer to finding these people," stated Samoset. "I say we sleep here for a few hours and continue searching down in the forest when the sun is up."

"Yeah," Mary sighed in defeat. She forced the last mouthful of stale bread down her throat. She crawled over to the spring and drank from the bubbling waters to wash it down. She laid upon her back then and the two stared up at the fading stars. "Tell me more about these Stone-talkers."

Samoset closed his eyes and thought as hard as he could. "I don't remember where they came from, or what languages they spoke. We called them Pechion, the Pechion people. They sleep for years at a time I think. They don't have to eat but they enjoyed the smoked fish and venison our people gave them. They drank like the thirsty black _maske_." He paused for some time. "Their intimate relationship with stones allow them to manipulate the rock like it was clay. They…" and he fell asleep with many a mumble, as if he strove to speak to her through his sleep.

Mary sat up. She got an idea. She didn't know if it would work but she gave it a shot anyway. She pointed her wand at the spring; she swished the wand and cast, " _glacius_." A blue light burst from the tip of her wand, interwoven with an icy blast of air. The spring struggled and spluttered but finally succumbed to the spell and hardened into ice. She looked around the hilltop as if someone would immediately appear. But there was no one. She lay back down and fell promptly into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Some time later, they both woke with a start, at the sound of a loud crack nearby. They sat up and looked about them, bewildered. They heard the loud pushing of a heavy stone upon another stone. And there, very close to them, where a large flat boulder was almost completely buried in the ground and only its top showing, a hole had opened up. Two large, flat and grey hands pushed a flat section of stone up and out of the hole it had made, and slid the lid made of stone away. Out peaked the head of a strange and singular creature that was incidentally very tired looking, just like they were. Its face was without a nose; its mouth was curved like an upturned bow and lined with many pale teeth. Its eyes were sunken into its skull, yet were not altogether unfriendly in disposition. It's hairless head domed down and ended into a horizontal crest stretching from cheek bone to cheek bone, around the back of its head.

The creature blinked at the two, who were so startled they could not but blink stupidly back. Then it slowly lifted itself out of the hole in the boulder, and Mary could see its grey and green skin, studded with many boney, stone-like protrusions upon its shoulders and back. It stood to full height and towered over them, as they were still staring in awe from their position upon the ground. It stretched and trembled until its toes looked like they might lift off from the bare earth, and then stood still.

"Did you… silence the spring… Mary?" asked the creature with slow but deliberate speech. Its dialect was unheard of and its voice was deep and throaty. But Mary was shocked, and a little afraid that the creature could not only speak English, but it knew her name as well!

Samoset instinctually sprung to his feet, once the hold of fear gripping him released, and brandished his tomahawk axe before him. Mary was too stunned to even consider pulling her wand out from her sleeve. "I… I did."

The creature cocked its head some, eyeing her with sensible perplexity. "Why?"

"I was looking for the Pechion people. Are you a member of their tribe?"

The creature walked over to the fountain, and toed the ice with its long, grey toes. "Yes, I believe I am." It began speaking cohesively and with fluidity, and Mary realized it staggered in tongue before, only because it was tired. "Yes, the living stones tell us we are called so." It looked sidelong at Mary, "these living breathing rocks taught us the language you speak, for they can hear your kind talk even down below the hills and along the coasts."

"How can you know my name, did the stones relay that as well?"

"Most indefinitely. They've been going on about having a witch in our lands, after you captured the Pukwudgie in the forest. I am called, Ralha, and you are flooding my chambers by freezing this spring above ground and obstructing its flow."

Mary tore herself away from the Pech's entrancing gaze, away from the all white eyes whose barrenness nevertheless conveyed an incredible sense of knowing and perception. She stirred as if from a trance. "Forgive me..." she turned her wand back to the spring and cast " _calicaeli_ ". Hot air with a red light shot out from her wand, and carved through the ice and softened it until the water began to bubble and gurgle once more. Steam rose into the crisp, morning air.

"Now that I am found, what do you desire of me?"

"We need to know where the Pukwudgie live."

"Why, so you can kill them?" it asked with indifference, yawning.

Samoset made to speak, but Mary thought better of it and interjected, "we need to find them so I can save my two young friends, taken from their homes, I believe, by the villainous Puks."

"I see. I will tell you where they live if you promise to come back and un-flood our cavern below."

"I will," smiled Mary shooting a glance of jubilation at Samoset who seemed more relaxed now. He had replaced his tomahawk into his belt. He stood proud with arms crossed. The memory of his brother clearly weighed down upon him, and he was eager to move forward on their pursuit. Mary turned back to the Pech who was now lying with its head upon a different large boulder, it too half buried in the earth. Its head was pressed against the rock as if listening, and its hand was stretched out over the rock, feeling as if for movement. The Pech did not speak to the stone aloud, but tapped with its fingers in rapid succession, and listened for the stone's reply.

After some time, in which Mary began to think the creature was not being honest about its intentions and perhaps Samoset had exaggerated about its abilities, the Pech returned to them and said, "the rocks do not know where they live for the Puks stay away from them." Samoset looked straight up into the sky in exasperation. "But this only means," the Pech continued, "the Pukwudgie live in the only area without significant rock below them. They live inside the Hockomock Swamp."


	5. The Puks

"Hockomock is in the Plymouth Colony," said Mary distractedly.

The Pech gazed at her. "I am going now, to stand asleep. Don't forget to remedy my flooded chambers when you are finished with the Pukwudgies."

"Of course," she replied. "Thank you Ralha." The Pech took its leave and returned down into its hole, replacing its stone lid behind it. The stone lid fused back into the boulder and the seams disappeared. Mary heard Samoset shift behind her.

"I…" he said, clearly overcome with fear at the mention of the swamp. "I can't go into that place."

Even Mary who was not a natural inhabitant of the area knew of the legends of Hockomock Swamp. Her time among the Wampanoag, and even whispered quietly among the Puritans she stayed with, indicated some unseen force of evil resided within those mires. To the Wampanoag, it was the god of disease, Hobomock, who was the chief calamity of those murky lands. To the Puritans it was the Devil himself that chose to live there. Mary had heard tales of the massive graves of indigenous tribesmen discovered there together with mounds of buried corn, and the empty villages where only dead men walked at midnight. The Puritans maintained that anyone who strayed into those badlands at night would become possessed by the devil and turned into a hag or warlock.

But if the Pukwudgie dens were indeed within the confines of the swamp, then they could have been the cause of those dark rumors all along. They had clearly demonstrated their lethality. And encouraging and eliciting tales of disease and death there would certainly keep unwanted humans outside their boundaries.

From the look of it Samoset was ready and willing to forgo his quest to avenge his brother. "I cannot honor him if I die."

Mary gazed at Samoset, seeing once more the boy he really was. "I will go to Hockomock Swamp alone, Samoset. I can take you back to the glade where your brother died." She held out her hand to him. The young man reached out slowly to grab ahold of it. Then seizing his hand with both of hers, lest she lose hold of it, she apparated back to the grave of his brother and the other Wampanoag travelers.

The glade was hollow and empty, and the rising sun veiled everything in a burning, orange radiance. The loose earth rose over the grave of the Wampanoag, and the white stone circle remained a testament to their underlying subjects. Just beyond the circle the ground was stamped flat by many dancing feet from the night before. Glowing embers of several of the bonfires still smoldered in the cool morning air.

Mary released Samoset's hand and stepped away from the grave; the Wampanoag boy did not. His eyes locked onto the grave of his brother for the first time. Mary watched him for a few moments, sorry for his loss. But Samoset was unaffected by her sympathies. His lips turned down and he grimaced at the sight. He began to chaff and gasp for air as his emotions threatened to spill over. Mary stepped slowly away, giving him a respectful distance.

Her skills as a witch were utterly useless in times like this. No tincture or potion could cure his sorrow, only cover it up, and no charm did she possess that could bring his brother back. She was reduced to a young woman, a mere human, who might only offer a comforting embrace would the grief-stricken boy even accept it. She turned to leave him. Then suddenly, Samoset let out a cry that filled the forest around them. She turned thinking he was wounded. But he wasn't. He knelt down and reached into the grave with both hands to scoop up a portion of the soil. He buried his face in his hands and smeared the soil over his face, neck, and shoulders. He turned towards her with a look of fierce doggedness. He took up his tomahawk and strode to Mary, who could not help flinching before the deadly demeanor that overtook his features.

"Take me to them! Take me to those murderers!" demanded the boy extending his hand to her. His face was blackened by the soil, his eyes glistened with tears, and the blood of the Pukwudgie was smeared black.

Mary hesitated. Her heart raced and thumped. She inexplicably smelt the stench of Mrs. Wilkins corpse as the memory of the Wilkins' demise struck her once more. The taste of stomach bile and sour cranberries manifested in the back of her throat once more. She was overwhelmed and disoriented for a moment before the memory passed, replaced by the native boy's scowl and shimmering, keen eyes. She then met Samoset's stare and gripped his hand firmly. _Crack_!

The glade blurred and disappeared around them, their feet left the ground. In an instant they returned to substance in a totally different setting. Samoset this time was unaffected by the apparation. His look of death contorted his face and he was focused on nothing but vengeance. She barely recognized him.

She had taken them to the edge of a glassy lake in the south of Hockomock. She was apprehensive about traveling here by way of apparation, because she only knew of this lake from a map she had once seen in the city hall at Plymouth. But time was of short supply and it so happened she managed to deliver them intact.

The sun shimmered over the rippling lake. The cawing of black crows heralded their arrival to the rest of the swamp, as they fluttered away in surprise. Samoset stooped low over the ground, searching among the pebbled shore of the lake for footprints. Mary did not expect to find anything; not after scouring the glade in the forest for traces of the Puks.

The lake bled into the shoreline and in some places looked indistinguishable. Growths of tall grass rose in ranks, littered with swaying cattails, bulrush, and woolgrass. Pockets of stagnate, foul water filled in the low ground and towering above the high ground were the white oaks, red maple, and green ash. The sky was not obscured like it was in the forest, and the clouds of gnats and mosquitos swarmed as if suspended in perpetual battle.

Samoset did not replace his tomahawk weapon in his belt and Mary thought it best to have her wand ready. The two began to walk north. Mary's knee-high travelling boots made navigating the swamp easier. Her traveling cloak was stained with muck. Samoset had trouble losing his moccasins to the mires. The squelching mud would suck them right off his feet, until with irritable frustration he took them off entirely and folded them under his belt.

The two searched all day for the dens of their quarry without a hint of attainment. The sun waned across the sky and the shadows of trees grew long and the insects and frogs grew more obnoxious in their carousing. Fatigue was playing on them, and several times they found themselves lost in the labyrinthine Hockomock. As they searched Samoset picked dandelions and crabapples to share with Mary to eat. "We are getting thoughtless without food and rest; these should help." Mary did feel better for consuming them but the taste of the dandelions uncooked was far from delectable.

As the sun began to set, Samoset noticed a small forest to the west, an island in the swamp. It was the only place they had found so far that could possibly conceal any large numbers of creatures. When night enveloped half the sky they were proven correct, for inside the forest they could see fires being lit. And as they came very close to the edge of the trees they could clearly see the blue smoke reflecting the moonlight above the treetops.

They crossed the threshold of the forest and as they did so they heard all manner of noise and chattering. The trees seemed to mute the sound from without. Mary and Samoset stared into one another's eyes with intention. They could her the speech of intelligent creatures. The time to act was near. Mary swirled her wand around her head muttering, " _umbras_!" And the opposite of lumos was affected. The shadow of the forest deepened and concealed them in their vantage place. They hid among the sweet pepperbush and spicebush, and from this concealment they could see them for the first time passing before the fires they made.

The Pukwudgie were numerous and behaved in all manner of savagery. The short, hairy creatures fought over catfish and toads from the swamp. One matronly Puk was chasing young ones before her with a switch, and they squealed like piglets before her ire. Mary strained to see through the darkness and among the trees for the two Wilkins girls. Samoset kept smacking her arm as if to say, 'now, why not attack now?' He still held his tomahawk and pulled a knife from his belt. Mary saw him swelling as if he were a dam ready to burst.

But he couldn't attack now, not before she located the girls. They had spent so much time searching for the dens they failed to formulate a cohesive plan of attack to satisfy their intentions. Mary found herself gripping Samoset by his arm trying to restrain him. This was intolerable; she felt her bearing on the situation deteriorating. She turned her wand on Samoset praying she wouldn't have to immobilize him, before he alerted the monsters of their presence.

The two froze at once. Samoset stopped struggling against her restraints. The loud beating of a hollow, wooden instrument silenced the gathering of Puks. They ceased their squabbling more or less and made for the bonfire closest to Mary and Samoset. There, being pulled along be their wrists and dresses, were Maggie and Claret! Mary fixed her eyes upon the girls. They were whole at least. Besides being dragged through the forest by monsters they'd surely never dreamed of, they were mostly dignified and composed. They both bore purple bruising and scabbing cuts upon their faces and she noted the angry, red lashes upon the forearms.

Mary gripped her wand so hard, she felt it might snap in two. Her blood boiled and her face flushed red with undeniable rage. Her heartbeat did not quicken but thumped powerfully against her breast like it was beating down a door. For the two Pukwudgies leading the parade of demons, pulling the captured angels along were wearing each a red-haired scalp upon their swarthy heads like wigs. Mary trembled all over, and Samoset could clearly see the thing he had become at his brother's grave; a vengeful, burning fire of righteous retribution clamoring to topple those around her who dared to stand in her way.

She waited for the right opportunity, but 'only till then!' she scolded herself. She became aware the two Pukwudgie leaders parading the girls, wearing those damned scalps, were trying to sell them to the others. For food, or slaves, or worse, she did not care know. As the girls and their captors approached the fire, one of the Pukwudgies with a red wig noticed a shimmer upon Maggie's hair, the silver hairpin. Refusing to sell the girls with even an ounce of jewelry, which it could keep for itself, the feral beast pulled Maggie abusively down to its own height and grabbed a fistful of red hair around the hairpin and attempted to rip it out of her hair! Maggie screamed in pain and tried to protect her head but the other Puks restrained her arms. Claret shouted, "STOP, STOP IT YOU'RE HURTING HER!" Mary could hear the roots of her hair plucking as it continued yanking and yanking upon the hairpin that would not come undone unless the wearer removed it. Her head jerked violently under the assault.

Mary screamed, "NOOO!"

She stood to her full height revealing her position. The Puk assembly stared at her with their wicked little faces. The accosting Puk stopped mid-pull and froze. Mary strode forward from the bushes. Even Samoset hung back, stunned by Mary's utter lack of tact. She made straight for the girls, and as she approached the bonfire she shouted, "DELETRIUS!" and strode through the void she had made in the flames. This caused all the Puks to flinch, but still none of them moved either away or towards her.

Maggie and Claret's mouths dropped as Mary came closer and they understood who she was, their faithful tutor.

"Mistress Mary," cried out Claret.

Maggie saw her whom she recognized and broke down sobbing loudly. Mary reached the girls, the Puks parting before her wrath. With undeniable right, Mary seized young Maggie around the waste and lifted her up to be carried, her sobs muted in Mary's shoulder, and then seized Claret by the hand and pulled them away from the wretched villains. She skirted the fire and was almost at Samoset's hiding place when all at once the Pukwudgie horde came alive with tenacious deviance.

They screeched like owls behind her, making her skin crawl in spite of herself. She did not turn to face them and instead pressed on away from the fires. There was a tattering of sticks as they seized their spears and chased her on foot, and a scrambling of feet as they struggled against one another to acquire their bows and poisonous arrows.

They were nearly upon her heels when Samoset leapt forth from the deepened shadows of the forest and swung his axe with a _whoosh_ against them, cutting the creatures down. He stabbed and stamped and the blurt of yellow blood sprayed and gurgled from their miserable, falling bodies. Mary reached the edge of the forest, spun around and cried out, "Samoset!" He came sprinting nimbly out of the trees to her, dripping in yellow blood, and smiling broadly; his vengeance sated somewhat. They both ducked when they heard the _twang_ of bowstrings. Arrows hummed passed their heads. Mary set Maggie down, released Claret's hand, and implored Samoset to make off with the girls. There was no way she could apparate with all four of them without seriously hurting one or more of them. He mercifully comprehended their plight and grabbing both girls by their hands ran off through the swamp.

Just in time Mary shouted, " _PROTEGO_!" shielding all of them from several arrows loosed upon them. They fell harmlessly to the ground. "STUPIFY!" she cried out at the first batch of Puks darting from the forest towards her. They froze mid-stride, some falling over. Mary stepped backwards scanning the line of trees for assailants. Three Puks to her right jumped out of the forest with bows drawn, pointed at Samoset and the girls. "DEPULSO!" The spell shot so violently the archer Puks' joints all snapped and bent backwards before being flung away, and the trees around them shattered at their bases and came crashing down.

Mary turned and ran wildly after Samoset and the girls, seeing that the dropping trees fell between the Puks and her. She grabbed her dress with both hands and jumped into the swamp, trudging through the putrid, brown water. When she reached dry ground and ran once more with speed, she heard the splashes of more Puks behind her. She spun around and cast, "CONFUNDO!" The Puks so afflicted were greatly confused and either fell into the water or forgot how to swim.

She turned to pursue Samoset once more. She saw them some distance away and steadied herself to apparate next to them. Just as she did so an arrow sounded, _ffftt_ , and sunk into her right armpit. She manifested beside her friends in a whirl and collapsed with a scream of pain. She buried her face in the mossy ground and yowled. "Mary," Samoset shouted. "Mary!"

"Mistress Mary!" shrieked Claret.

"Aah," she gasped hoarsely, "give me Maggie!" She hugged Maggie and – _crack_ – vanished. They spun nauseatingly and the arrowhead inside her armpit twisted as the arrow pulled in the whirling chaos. They came to at Askooke Spring. Mary sent a blast at the stone Ralha emerged from that morning by way of notification. "Wait here," she pleaded. _Crack!_

She grabbed Samoset and Claret this time around their necks just as the Pukwudgie rushed towards them. _CRACK_! Again back to Askooke Spring, but this time Ralha's head was poked out of the hole in the stone. "Mary the Witch? Already?" it asked sleepily. The two girls beheld Mary anew and so stunned they became their jaws fell open.

"Ralha, please watch these two girls, protect them with your life!" She knew taking them to Wamsutta would have been better then delivering them into a strange being's keeping she had only just met, but the spring was the first place she could think of and she was running out of time. Her right arm was swelling and she feared she wouldn't be able to preform magic. If felt like a large apple was lodged in her armpit. Her eyelids quivered under the pain. She turned to Samoset, quickly made sure he had his knife still, grabbed hold of him and – _crack_ – disapparated from the girls and the Pech.

Suddenly they stood inside an ill lit barn, owned by Andrew Thomson. Mary collapsed into Samoset's arms, and he immediately laid her down and rent the arrow from her armpit. He knew it would cause irreparable damage but the poison had to be removed as quickly as possible. It did not come with the first tug, and Mary was lifted off the ground with the effort. She bellowed like a calf, when he finally ripped the arrow out, and she fell to the dirt floor in a heap of agony.

"Mary where are we, why did you bring us here?"

She could barely focus on him as the poison seeped through her veins and her vision came in and out. She pointed past the young man to the stables of the barn. "What, what's there?" Samoset jumped to the gate of the stable and peered inside. "Goats?" He rushed back to her side on his knees. "Why?"

"The poison… you have to… extract a bezoar… a stone from… the goats' bellies." She pointed inside her mouth, and with that the witch lost consciousness, the pain and poison finally consuming her. Her wand fell from her lifeless hand.

Samoset took his knife and pulled open the door of the stable. The goats turned their heads idly towards him.


	6. What Came To Pass

Mary woke to Samoset pouring over her. A look of relief washed over his face at her stirring. He still had the soil smeared over his features. She noticed he was flecked with red blood now too. "Mary?"

The fact she was conscious and able to deliberate confirmed Samoset had saved her life. She didn't know how many goats he had to cut open to find the bezoar, but she was grateful for his gruesome undertaking. "Thank you," she relayed weakly.

Samoset sat down with a huff. "I had to carry you over my shoulders and run you away from that man's barn. We slipped out the back just in time. I could her his swearing behind us."

"Poor, Andrew."

Samoset shrugged his shoulders as he caught his breath. "I'll never forget those goats' yammering." He helped her to sit up and when she was able to sit on her own without swaying he offered her the wand she had dropped on the barn floor. She tried to hold it in her right hand, but she could not grip it firmly.

"Thank you." She looked around them; they were deep in the forest and only feeble light of the moon was able to struggle to reach them below the canopy. The leaves rustled above their heads in the breeze sounding like the washing of waves upon a shore. "How long was I out?"

"The sun has set for some time. It has to have been two or three hours."

At once Mary remembered the girls, Maggie and Claret. How she had delivered them from the clutches of the Puks into the care of the drowsy Pech. She was anxious to get back to them to make sure they were okay. She attempted to stand up, but as she did so her arm felt leaden and heavy; and she winced, exposing her teeth.

The young man asked, "are you able to move already?"

"I want to, but I don't think I can travel all at once to the girls. Not yet."

"Okay. I'll stay with you until you are ready to look out for yourself."

She met his eyes and tried to convey how much this meant to her. "You're a worthy man, Samoset."

He laughed and replied, "and you, a capable witch. I would have gladly kept killing those Puks, but you are far more proficient than I."

She partook of the humor he saw in their recent plight. She had the feeling the Pukwudgies were not wholly defeated nor deterred from attacking humans. She hoped they would at least think twice about it. Her attention was now on the girls. What was to become of them? Although saved from their grizzly fates, they were without their older brother and parents. They hadn't a relative to look after them. She did not believe any of the Puritan homes would take on two young girls out of charity. Girls were seen as less capable farm hands than boys. They would only be two more mouths to feed.

She considered the idea of asking Wamsutta to watch over them for she knew the natives had adopted several colonial prisoner children over the years and incorporated them into their own lifestyles. The sachem may have obliged and may not. She didn't want to risk his refusal. Something about that seemed damaging, were the girls to learn of it.

Right now she needed to get back to the girls as soon as possible. "Let's go. I cannot apparate to Askooke Spring, but I should be able to walk there." Samoset walked with her and offered her his hand to cross over streams and to climb up hills. She was immensely grateful for his friendship. She would convey his praiseworthiness to Wamsutta the next time she saw him.

It took the two companions two days to reach Askooke Spring. They both heard the girls laughing before they could see them, as they played in a stone pool the Pechion had made them from the bedrock of the spring itself. Ralha had seen to their health and embraced Mary and Samoset when they arrived, to their immense surprise. But after hearing what the girls told about their rescue, the creature was pleased. "The Pukwudgies will not be missed by our people." The Pech was moved by their efforts and asked the four of them to stay there with him. Mary gladly accepted Ralha's offer and Samoset too could not tear himself away from his new friends. But first, there was the task of ridding Ralha's underground chamber of water.


End file.
